


Their Man Potter

by Pitry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Relationships, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29407491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pitry/pseuds/Pitry
Summary: It started, as so many things started these days, with a leak on the Muggle internet. The Main Directorate of the General Staff of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation, commonly known as the GRU, Russian Military Intelligence, or, in some quarters, Those Russian Bastards, had a unit of wizards.Sequel to War is Over and Inter Arma.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

The Prime Minister had a very bad week. It started with a small comment which got heard by the press and was blown out of all proportions, in his opinion. It continued with a member of his own party casting doubt on his abilities as Prime Minister. And everyone kept on blaming him for his predecessor's mistakes and rather condescending attitude, not to mention the economic collapse, which really, that was the Americans' fault! And now the poll numbers. The poll numbers said the same thing they said since he called the election - he was going to lose, and his rival was going to assume his office in a week. 

If ever he needed a miracle, it was this week.

He was so consumed by his troubles, that he didn't hear the cough at first. It was only after a couple of seconds that he realised what he was hearing. Once the little man in the painting saw that he was listening, he spoke in his smug, self-important voice. "The Minister for Magic will be arriving in five minutes."

Great. That's just what he needed, the Prime Minister thought bitterly. The Minister for Magic never dropped by with good news, oh no. It was always goblins this, dark wizards that. And if there were any more bad news, well, he might as well just give up and hand over the keys to Number 10 to that insufferable, self-important, public-school boy.

Five minutes later, like clockwork, the fireplace turned green. The first time the Prime Minister was visited by the Minister for Magic, the first time the fireplace turned green, he was terrified and shocked. Fortunately, he never got the chance to get used to it - the Prime Minister did not receive many visits from the Minister for Magic. But still, he was more prepared this time, when the tall and formidable Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt walked out of the fire.

"Minister," he stretched his hand for a shake, which the Minister took. "Prime Minister."

The Prime Minister then turned to the other man - Shacklebolt's secretary, he wondered for a moment? The man was younger, in his late 20s or early 30s, with a shock of black hair, bright green eyes, and a curious scar on his forehead, the shape of a lightning bolt. And unlike the minister, he was not wearing robes but regular clothes - jeans and t-shirt, in fact. Not the clothes one usually wears to a meeting with the Prime Minister, he noted disapprovingly.

"Prime Minister, this is the head of the Auror Office, Harry Potter."

"Prime Minister," Potter stretched his hand, and he shook it. 

Auror office... "That's the guys who go after dark wizards, right?" he hazarded. 

"Yes, Prime Minister," Potter confirmed.

The Prime Minister looked at Minister Shacklebolt with resignation. "We're a week before the elections, Minister. I can't have another disaster now. Whatever it is your dark wizards are after now, can they please wait until next week?"

"Don't worry," the Minister said in his booming voice. "There is no dark wizard emergency - yet. Can we sit down?"

"Sure, sure," the Prime Minister led them to his desk. "What is it, then?" he asked without apologising for disposing with niceties.

"Actually, it's about your elections," Shacklebolt said, and the Prime Minister raised an eyebrow. 

"I did not know you cared about our politics."

"It would appear we have no choice _but_ to care, Prime Minister. You see, some recent developments in other countries have left us worried about possible... ripple effects."

The Prime Minister remained silent. He knew by now that the Minister will explain himself. And indeed, Shacklebolt did not disappoint.

"We've seen it in three or four countries by now. A new, less responsible Prime Minister or President assumes office. He hears about the... arrangement, shall we say? in his country, between his government and the Wizarding World. And then..." Shacklebolt's voice trailed, and Potter picked up.

"And then he decides that he wants to change the arrangement. For his own benefit."

The Prime Minister rose to his feet. "Gentlemen - I hope you're not suggesting - I have never - I am an honourable man, regardless of what the Daily Mail says!" his Scottish accent became stronger as his protests grew louder. 

"We weren't suggesting otherwise, Prime Minister," said Potter the Auror. "It's your rival we're worried about."

The Prime Minister sat in his office and snorted. "Look, I'll be the first to say he's a - " he paused for a moment before settling on " - toff, trust you me. But that does not mean that he...!"

"The world is changing, Prime Minister," Shacklebolt said in a heavy voice. "We may be paranoid, I don't know. But we can't take the risk."

"What are you suggesting, then?"

Potter handed him a list. "This is a list of Muggles with a long and proven record of service to the United Kingdom. Their loyalty to their country and to their government cannot be questioned. They are also people with a close family relative who is a witch or wizard. They already know about us. Any one of them can become a... liaison, shall we say. And we will have a liaison as well. A Muggle-born wizard or witch. Someone who cares just as much about the welfare of their family as they do about the Wizarding World. You pick one, we pick one. They do the coordination between themselves, we stay out of each other's way. And your rival doesn't need to know."

The Prime Minister looked at the list for a long moment. He recognised some of the names - civil servants, a director of a big company - even a couple of MPs from his own party. For a moment, the thought crossed his mind that keeping the wizard world secret cannot go on for long. Like Shacklebolt said - the world was changing, and fast. And if the list of names indicated anything, it indicated how many people knew about it already.

"Do you ever wonder," he asked the two, "what will happen when everyone in our world learns about yours? Will governments collapse?" he mused, thinking how close his own country came to collapse only a few years previously. "Or will people just shrug and go on with their lives - hell, half of them probably know already!" he said and tossed the list on his desk. "I don't know if hiding this information from my rival is the right thing to do."

"No one would need to know that you knew," Shacklebolt said.

"Yes, I could always blame Tony," the Prime Minister mused, and chuckled without mirth at his own joke. "Can I take a couple of days to think about this?"

"Sure," the Minister for Magic said. "Just don't take too long. The polls suggest you don't have much longer."

"Thank you," the Prime Minister said with ice-cold annoyance in his voice. The meeting was over. The wizards got up, the flames in the fireplace turned green again, and they were gone. 

Two days later, and against his better judgement, he called in one of the people on the list and assigned her the role of Wizarding World Liaison. Five days after that, as the polls predicted, he left his office, never to return.

**Ten years later**

The United Nations Special Envoy for Global Education was sitting with his wife and a couple of friends in a fancy, just re-opened restaurant in Edinburgh, when a commotion at the door caught his attention. He raised his eyes and saw the group of people, definitely under-dressed for the high-end restaurant, walking in. He could see one of them shaking his head when the hostess asked whether they had a reservation. Good luck, lads, he thoughts as he went back to his pasta. There was a three-month waiting list for this restaurant. The only reason he had succeeded in getting a table with a two-week notice was because he used to be, ten years ago, the Prime-bloody-Minister.

To his utter surprise, the hostess soon took four menus and showed the four into a table. "Must be some YouTube celebrities," his friend said. 

"Must be," the former Prime Minister agreed - after all, one of them looked familiar, didn't he, with his shock of black hair and bright green eyes and a scar, a scar like a bolt of lightning.... And then it hit him - that day in Number 10, a week or so before the elections. The men who came out of the fire. The Head Auror. "Excuse me," he muttered to his company and got up from his seat. 

"See?" Said one of his companions to the other. "Even former Prime Ministers can't stand the temptation of a dime-a-dozen YouTube celebrities. The world is doomed, I'm telling you."

"Mr Potter?" he asked, standing above the Auror. The man raised his head and they looked at each other for a moment. The former Prime Minister remembered now how young he looked back then, ten years ago. Not anymore. We both got older, he thought. And both our worlds got darker. 

"Prime Minister," Potter said. "I didn't think you would remember me."

"Well," the former Prime Minister didn't quite know what to say. It was hard to forget people who came out of your fireplace? "I wanted to say - thank you."

"What for?" the man was puzzled.

"Ten years ago, I thought you and Shacklebolt were paranoid. Delusional," he said, his mind travelling to the newest Prime Minister of his country, the one who, everyone agreed, had only one thing that allowed him to keep the job for this long, and that was the identity of his rival. He imagined any one of these men learning the secret of the wizarding world, what it would have meant to the country in this time, what it would have meant to the wizards, what it would have meant for everyone else. "Turns out you were right. The world is changing. The country would have probably been even worse off - " if that's even possible - "had you not come to me that night with that plan. Thank you. You may have saved the country."

Potter nodded. "Honestly, Prime Minister, I just hope we won't live to regret it."


	2. The Minister for Magic

It started, as so many things started in the world these days, with a group of people, who once saw the similarities between themselves, and today saw only the differences. A group of people who used to be 'us', but now inevitably became divided into groups of 'them'. Once, it appeared they had one common goal, one important thing that would benefit them all. Now, they could no longer look past the ways that the rest of their goals were not only different, but diametrically opposed. Where once there was a coalition, suspicious and fragile as it may be, there was now only the Prisoner's Dilemma, the zero-sum game. You win, we lose. 

It started with powerful men, looking to consolidate even more power at a time of change. Together they stand, and divided? And so, promises were made, and allegiances switched. A war broke out, fed and nurtured by those men, who stood more to gain when two groups fought each other, than when they chose to fight together. A small conflict became an all out civil war. And as things tend to be, in this world of globalisation and social networks, of instant information bombarding eight billion people from all directions, of breaking news and fake news and public opinion manipulation, what was once a localised war changes reality for the entire planet. 

It also started, as so many things started in the Muggle world these days, with a leak on the internet. In fact, the leak sat there for a whole week, before anyone noticed it. And even then, some journalists suggested later, people only noticed it because of a coordinated attempt to _get it noticed_. A stash of top-secret documents of one of the strongest powers on the planet, it was almost a cliché by that point. And yet, eventually it caught people's attention. And as they started going through the documents, it became the only thing anyone talked about.

It can't have been an innocent whistle-blower, insisted one morning talk show host. This is clearly another instance of psychological warfare, suggested a famous columnist. It _can't_ be real, everyone agreed. But as intelligence service after intelligence service went through the documents, looking for any signs of forgery, any indication that this was fake, a joke gone bad - or indeed, psychological warfare, they all ended up with the same conclusion. It wasn't.

The Main Directorate of the General Staff of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation, commonly known as the GRU, Russian Military Intelligence, or, in some quarters, Those Russian Bastards, had a unit of wizards. And while at first everyone just assumed that 'wizards' simply was a codeword standing in for something else, the more documents got translated, the more it became obvious that no, by 'wizards' the anonymous Russian military officer who wrote the memo meant... _wizards_. Magic. Wands. Abracadabra and rabbits out of hats and that sort of thing.

Wizards. In the Russian army.

It took the Ukrainians three days to reveal they had their own unit, thank you very much, and their wizards were even better than the Russian ones. And also that half the Russian wizards refused to join the military and left the country, most often to Ukraine. A former American President immediately shared on social media that he made sure during his time in office that the US had the biggest wizard army in the world, which was also the best, much better than the Russian and the Chinese. The four-star general who sat in the impromptu press conference the next day looked stony faced as he refused to say whether their wizards were, indeed, much better than the Russian ones, and let the reporters conclude that, for a change, the rest of their former President's comments were not complete nonsense. The Chinese set up a military parade of wizards in response. The German Chancellor and the French President sat together as they discussed how wizards could advance human kind (and the German automobile industry, which the Chancellor insisted was crucial to getting out of The Damn Recession), while the Israeli government refused to confirm or deny the existence of Israeli wizards (according to foreign sources, they have been a part of the Israeli army for quite a while). 

And in the streets of a dozen countries or more, people were already marching and carrying signs suggesting that the vaccines were developed by magic, clearly in order to destroy regular people, and/or to inject them with 5G chips (there seemed to be disagreements about that between some of the marchers). 

Meanwhile, in the UK parliament, all hell broke loose. The leader of one party suggested that the existence of wizards was a conspiracy originating in mainland Europe whose purpose was preventing the UK from gaining its real independence from the European Union, despite having left it, multiple times. His rival's suggestions that this was an excuse were drowned up by multiple other theories - from his own backbenchers. It was all broadcast on TV, to the general entertainment of the UK public (some of them still stuck at home indefinitely), who may or may not find themselves at the heels of yet another election, which was predicted – if it happened - to be won by one party or the other by a 52-48 margin. Some wondered whether they should get to vote in a referendum on the existence of wizards. 

"Poppycock," responded the Prime Minister to a question asked of him in a press conference - to which only friendly reporters were invited. In order not to publicly ignore any public health directives, of course. "Utter poppycock. I am the Prime Minister," he reminded the reporter, as he was prone to do, while the man nodded enthusiastically and took note. "If there were wizards in Britain, I would have known about it! Since I do _not_ know about it, clearly there are none. And that's it."

It was then not a _complete_ surprise when, in the middle of PM's Questions the very next week, the fire inside the Parliament chambers turned green, and a man walked out, wearing long purple robes, and holding a wooden wand in his hand.

The Prime Minister, it should be said, recovered incredibly fast. "I told you that we had wizards too," he told the chamber, while his party members clapped, and the Parliament members on the opposite benches rose to their feet and demanded answers, and the Speaker's shouts for order were drowned in the general mayhem. 

The wizard just stood there, slightly embarrassed. It didn't seem like any of the Members of Parliament were particularly interested in what he had to say, he observed. Perhaps he should turn back and come again later?

**-X-**

The commotion in the Parliament Chamber had died some hours ago. The majority of MPs, opposition and government alike, went home to their families, talked to their constituents, or, more likely, sat with their advisors and tried to devise a plan to make this about them.

Only a small number of people sat in the meeting room in Ten Downing Street. Some of them were MPs and government ministers. A couple dropped by from the House of Lords. Four were civil servants - including, to everyone's shock, the official British Liaison to the Wizarding World, who introduced herself cheerfully as Emma and had all the paperwork prepared. The wizard in the purple robes, who by now had introduced himself as the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a couple of his aides, were also present. To his surprise, but less so to the surprise of the rest of the people in the room, the Prime Minister was _not_ there. 

"He’s still worried about crowds,” the Home Secretary mumbled. “It's probably best to do this without him, anyway. He'll just get in the way."

The Minister for Magic nodded, then sighed. The Home Secretary turned to glare at the cheerful Emma.

"So, we _do_ know about wizards," she said curtly. 

"Well, yes. For quite a while," the Minister for Magic interjected, unwilling to let Emma take the fall for this. "Mostly, though, our two societies don't interact. That's the Liaison office, really, just making sure we don't step on each other's toes. Our Liaison, Mr Thomas, has so much time on his hands he's actually taken up teaching Muggle Studies at Hogwarts."

Mr Thomas smiled next to him, then clarified to the perplexed Home Secretary, who seemed even more confused than before. "It's the Wizarding school. Muggle Studies is, well... I teach the kids what they need to know about regular society. Maths and cars and plugs and the UK Government, that sort of thing."

"… Plugs and the UK Government," the Home Secretary repeated weakly, apparently trying to create a mental category which included both these items as prototypical members. 

"And cars," Cheerful Emma added cheerfully, only to be countered with a scathing look from the Home Secretary. She became slightly less cheerful after that. 

"And then what?" the Home Secretary demanded. "What is the structure of your society? What does your government look like? Do you follow the policy of the British Government? Who are you accountable to?"

"I'm sorry?" Kinglsey was taken aback. He has had dealings with a number of Prime Ministers, as well as his predecessors. None of them ever had to deal with... this. 

The Home Secretary glared at him. "I am a Minister. I am accountable to the Prime Minister. The Prime Minister is accountable to the British Public, as we have an election every... five years, give or take. The structure of our government is transparent. Our policies are debated in Parliament and are turned into laws. Those laws are binding for all British citizens. Are you bound by those laws?"

"Well, we have our own laws, which are relevant to our own society."

"Aha!" She looked at him, as if he just confirmed her worst suspicions. "So, if you were to allow foreigners in with no proper visa and not going through the official border stops and proper medical precautions, you would not consider yourselves in violation of any laws. Even though you would be, because in these borders, we have strict laws about who's allowed in and who isn't!"

Kinglsey looked at Dean with a mixture of shock and confusion. Out of all the things she could have come up with to go after them, it's Apparition?! 

"We want to know who the wizards are in this country. We want to know what the structure of your government is. We want to know what laws of this country you consider _below_ yourselves. You cannot disregard official policy of the UK Government, official laws which have been passed by the British Parliament! - without proper scrutiny. You want to be exempt from some laws? This needs to be discussed. Do you pay taxes?"

"To the Ministry of Magic, yes. This is how we fund Ministry activity."

"Well, that's not the British - "

"I think you will find that it is," Dean cut across her. She glared at him - it was obvious she was not used to not being allowed to complete her sentences. Dean pretended not to notice. "The Parliament Act 1911, reaffirming the reforms of the Acts of Union 1707, established the Ministry for Magic as one of Her Majesty's official offices, and the Minister a _direct_ subordinate of the Queen. Of course, with time, as with many other things, the Minister began working with the Prime Minister, and in the past few years, with the civil service, which is what Emma here - " he nodded at her - "has been doing for a while. But we're quite as much a part of the UK Government as your office is."

The Home Secretary paused for a moment. "How come I've never heard of these parts of British law?"

"Well, you know how it is, when British wizards decided it was best to... keep ourselves to ourselves, shall we say? These parts were made less accessible to Muggles. But worry not, we checked with both wizard and Muggle law experts. It's still legal."

"Well, now that you lot are not keeping yourselves to yourselves," she repeated his words with disdain, "it will probably be best that you start following the same British Governance conventions that everyone else has to. That's standing for elections and taking part in Parliament and being quite transparent about who is in charge of what in your Ministry. And we would like to know who the wizards are in our society."

"Beg pardon?"

"Well, if you're going to elect your own representatives, you need to be registered to vote, just like everyone else in this country. Anyway," she glanced at her watch, "I have other business to attend to. I will let the Speaker of the House know that you will be presenting the Department Heads of the Ministry for Magic tomorrow in Parliament, yes?"

The Home Secretary did not wait for an affirmative, simply got up and left. Her entourage followed her, with the last person being the Significantly Less Cheerful Emma. "I'm sorry," she mouthed at Dean and rushed outside. 

"Well, this went well," Dean muttered. Kingsley shot him a look. "I'll call the Department Heads, Minister, another half hour?" With Kingsley's nod, Dean got up and Apparated outside of the room. Kingsley sighed, stood up as well, and turned on the spot.

Half an hour later, a different meeting room, in a different office, was full of people, all significantly less cheerful than Emma. Kingsley surveyed his Department Heads as he considered how to best break the news to them. Dean Thomas, his head of the Muggle Liaison Office; Hermione Granger, who recently left her position as Hogwarts' Transfiguration professor and Education liaison with the Ministry to assume the role of the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; next to her, the head of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Department, Bill Wealsey. Next to them was sat Alicia Spinnet, who had assumed the role of Head of the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes some five years ago. Magical Transportation, a role that was held by Zacharias Smith for the past three years; Cho Chang, in charge of the Department of Magical Games and Sports since Ginny Potter quit in favour of teaching Quidditch at Hogwarts, and next to her was the head of the International Magical Cooperation Department, Blaise Zabini, and Hannah Abbott, of the Department of Mysteries. 

Kingsley looked at his senior staff, sighed, and sat down. Dean debriefed his fellow department heads on the contents of the meeting with the Home Secretary. "In short," he said, "they want us in Parliament tomorrow, and it seems like they're going to force an election."

"It's not the elections I'm worried about," Hermione said. "It sounds like they want a wizard registry. _That_ I am worried about."

"They have it in a number of countries by now," Zabini pointed out, "and let's be honest - it's not like it's going to do them any good."

"It would if they get the Ministry records," Hannah Abbot objected. "Underage wizards, Muggle born wizards... They don't need to go after us if they can go after our kids."

"If we're willing to compromise on adults, that may be our way out," Hermione said. "They say they want it for elections purposes? They get the names of everyone over 18, and that's it. The rest stays here."

"Seventeen," Smith corrected her, and she corrected him back. "Eighteen. That's the legal age in Muggle society, and they don't need to know it's different for us."

Kingsley remained silent. "Minister?" Bill Weasley asked eventually. "What do you say?"

"I don't know. I don't want any wizard registry."

"Well, what's done is done," Dean said. "We decided to work with them, it's too late to change our minds now." Kingsley did not answer. 

The meeting was about to be disbanded when an uninvited employee of the Ministry walked in - the head of the Auror Office, Harry Potter. He looked at the people around the room with apprehension. "Sorry, I was just leaving and noticed the light - I didn't realise there was a meeting tonight." The Auror Office was, technically, under the jurisdiction of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. However, it had been the custom to include the Head Auror in all senior staff meeting. At least, that had been the case since Harry took office, some fifteen years ago. 

"It's okay, Harry, we were just finished," the Minister said. He nodded at his Department Heads, and everyone got up and picked up their belongings. The Minister nodded at Harry and left with no explanation. The rest of the senior staff left after him. Only Hermione took her time packing her bag before looking at the exit. 

It was better to do this privately, she thought. Bill paused for a second, as if considering staying for a bit longer, then left the room. "Harry, Hermione, we'll see you this weekend at my parents'?"

"Yeah, sure," Hermione said. Harry didn't respond.

"What's going on, Hermione?" he asked when everyone else left. 

She told him of the demands of the Home Secretary. "And so," she concluded, "we're all being hauled up in front of Parliament tomorrow to provide answers for things they don't want to know." When Harry didn't say anything, she continued. "They only asked for the Department Heads, and since the Auror Office is under the jurisdiction of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, there's no need for you to be a part of it."

Harry still didn't answer. Hermione sighed. "Look, Harry. It's not... It looks like they're going to force an election."

"It's okay, Hermione. I get it," he shook his head. 

It didn't make Hermione feel any better. "Harry..."

"It's okay, Hermione, really." He smiled now, and if his smile wasn't completely convincing, she could ignore it. "I've been in the spotlight for what, thirty years? I know how it works by now. Half the time I can do no wrong in the eyes of the public, and the other half - well. I'm a liability. Currently, I'm a liability. I'm used to it, honestly. And you're right, if Kingsley needs to win elections, it's best to keep a bit of a distance at the moment. Besides," he raised an eyebrow, "I've got way too many things to do tomorrow, going to Parliament and getting grilled by the Head of the Backbencher Committee, the Honourable Member for Clwyd West, is just not the best use of my time. How many Galleons _did_ the Ministry spend last year on the Time Turner research project?"

"Don't," Hermione warned him as the two walked out of the Ministry together. 

"It's taxpayer money, you know."

"Don't!"

**-X-**

Olivia ate her toast while watching the press conference on telly. The government was introducing the senior staff of the Ministry for Magic, and announcing the creation of two new constituencies, Hogsmeade South and Hogsmeade North, and that the Minister for Magic will be the MP for Hogsmeade South. Olivia pulled her phone. Google Maps did not have any information of a place called Hogsmeade anywhere in the UK, although it did suggest a small village near Pretoria, South Africa.

"Mum!" Her eight-year-old glared at her. "We're not allowed to watch TV while we eat!"

Deep inside, Olivia cursed her wife, the child-development psychologist. "I know, Marcus, sweetheart, but I'm really hungry and this is _really_ important news. Besides, it's okay to break the rules _sometimes_."

"Ahem," Letitia the child-development psychologist closed the door behind her, bringing in the rest of Marcus' stuff. 

"Hi, love!" Olivia said cheerfully, pretending not to notice Letitia's expression. "How are you?"

"For the record, Marcus, Mum is wrong. It's not okay to break the rules, and Mum of all people should know that, because it's even more important that police officers don't break the rules!" With that, and ignoring Olivia's protests, Letitia picked up the remote control and turned the TV off. 

"Now, Mum is going to finish her toast without watching the telly, and once she's done, if she still wants to, she can go back and listen to the wizards being told that they have to follow the rules, too."

"Mum! Can I be a wizard when I grow up?"

"I don't know, love," Olivia finished her toast. "Do you want to be a wizard?"

"Yeah! That way I could have my own dragon!"

"Do wizards have dragons? Did they say that they have dragons?"

"Marcus, sweetheart, do you remember what happened to the fish we bought you for your birthday? You need to learn how to take care of fish first before you can take of something bigger."

"Yay! I'm getting a dragon!" 

"No, Marcus, darling, I didn't say you can have a dragon!"

"Do you think they have dragons in the wizard army?"

"What wizard army?"

"Danny at school said there's a wizard army. He said his mum and dad said, there's probably a bunch of wizards working for the army and making all kinds of weapons. And Patrick said _his_ parents said that we need more wizard doctors cause our doctors are rubbish. And then Emily said that her sister said the wizards made sure that Harry and Meghan date, but I don't know about that, why would they care? Do you think they have dragon armies?"

"Marcus, there's no wizard armies. Olivia, your phone's ringing! Marcus, be quiet, please, Mum's on the phone!" Letitia seemed to leap at the opportunity to stop the flow of wizard speculations from her eight-year-old son, and handed over the phone to Olivia. Olivia, on the other hand, looked much less happy once she had a glance at the caller ID.

"Yes, Chief. Yes. I see. I'll be there." She turned the phone off, only to face the disappointed expressions on her wife and son's faces. 

"Olivia..."

"Mum! You can't go!"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I really am."

DI Olivia Chapman of the Met's CID put on her shoes, took her badge and car keys, and left the warm house to the rainy evening outside. 

It took Olivia about fifteen minutes before she made it to the crime scene. By then, she was fully updated. Family of four, both girls are in boarding schools, the wife teaches in a boarding school. Her husband arrived last night from work, just like every evening. The neighbour didn't see him leave this morning, she just assumed. He always came back before 8 PM, she said. She ran out of sugar and didn't feel like going to the shop, too many people there, you see, too crowded, you never know, she thought she'd just pop in, after all, they've been neighbours for nearly five years, and they may not have been particularly close, but sugar, that's straightforward, isn't it? 

It appeared the body was there for at least 12 hours before the neighbour found it. Mr Finnigan never made it to work that morning. 

Olivia wrinkled her nose when she walked into the crime scene. The stench of death was everywhere. "Where the body?" she asked the constable, who led her to the bedroom, where the lab guys were already taking pictures and looking for clues. Mr Finnigan was murdered in his bed. 

"What the hell did that?!" she wondered out loud when she saw the state of the body. "What did they have in here, a tiger?" The constable shrugged. 

A second constable walked in. "DI Chapman? You're needed at the door."

"Sure," she said, and continued her rant as she followed the constable. "I mean, I've seen enough stab wounds in my life, I have never seen something like that. It literally looks like they just brought a tiger in there to finish the job. Have you ever seen anything like that?"

The constable muttered something and looked relieved when the two police officers arrived at the door, where two strange looking men were standing. "They're asking to be let into the crime scene," the constable at the door said.

"This is a crime scene, gentlemen," DI Chatman said, rather impatiently. "What do you want?"

"Like he said, we need to be allowed in," the older one of the two said.

"Why?"

The two men looked at each other. The younger one, with the electric blue hair, scratched his ear. 

"Well?"

"It's a... we don't usually do it that way."

"What way? Do what?"

"Look," the other man started, "usually we just have a team of Obliviators to make you forget you were ever here and then we just walk in. But... in the new spirit of cooperation between the Ministry and the Muggle world, our new policy is to... " he looked for a word, then settled on the redundant "cooperate."

She looked them up and down. The older one was in his late 30s or early 40s, with a shock of black hair, bright, intelligent green eyes behind his glasses, and multiple scars on his face and hands, the most prominent one was the shape of a lightning bolt, right on his forehead. He was wearing regular clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, and seemed quite comfortable in them. The younger was a kid - couldn't be a day over 25, and his blue spikes were joined by an earring that looked like a fang. He was wearing black robes. 

"You two are wizards."

"Yup."

"Prove it."

The younger one's hair turned pink. 

"Okay. Fair enough. What are you, wizard police?"

"We're Aurors, yeah, that's... sort of wizard police. I'm Harry Potter, this is Teddy Lupin."

"DI Olivia Chapman. Why are you here?"

"Seamus," Potter said, his voice turning quiet. "He is... he was one of us. He was an Auror."

She paused. But that was exactly what someone who wanted to convince her to let them in would say. "How do I know you're who you say you are?"

"We just proved to you - "

"Oh, I believe you're a wizard. How do I know you're not the ones who murdered that poor bastard?"

Lupin's mouth opened for a moment, then closed. It was clear he could not even imagine being asked that question. Potter, on the other hand, did not look shocked. On the contrary - he looked as if he was expecting the question. "You're just going to have to take our word for it," he said. They looked at each other for a few more seconds, and then Olivia nodded to the constable.

"But, Ma'am..."

"If they were the bad guys, Constable, they would have used that magic of theirs to get in, they wouldn't be standing here and asking nicely to be let in. Come, I will show you the body. You say you knew him?"

"Seamus Finnigan," Potter confirmed. "He was an Auror until last year."

"I should warn you - it's not a pretty sight."

Potter didn't say anything as he walked into the bedroom. He surveyed the body in silence, studying slash after slash, following the pools of blood.

"Merlin," Lupin breathed behind him. 

"What did this?" Olivia asked.

"A nasty curse," Potter responded. 

"That's how you lot kill?"

Potter sniffed. "No. It didn't kill him - not immediately, at any rate. He bled to death." He pulled a stick of wood from his pocket - a magic wand, Olivia realised belatedly. By then he raised it and was muttering something under his breath. For five seconds, a light shone at the tip of his magic wand. Then it stopped. Potter seemed deep in thought.

"Teddy," he said all of a sudden, "can you find Seamus' wand anywhere?"

" _Accio_ Seamus' wand," Teddy muttered, grabbing his own wand. Nothing happened. " _Accio_!" he tried again. Nothing. He looked at Potter in confusion. 

"They must have taken it," Potter said. "That's why he couldn't call for help. They probably took it before he even woke up - there's no signs of struggle," he concluded, looking again at the pool of blood. "He didn't even get the chance to defend himself." Finally, he walked to the bed, and looked up close at the wounds. He then crouched near the dead man's face.

"We'll find them, Seamus," he said those words so softly, that Olivia could barely make them out. "I promise." Another second, and Potter got up. "I need to let Parvati know."

"His wife?"

"Yeah. His daughter is my son's age."

He turned to leave, Teddy Lupin at his heels, when he seemed to remember the police officer. "I don't know what your procedure is. We will send some people over to take care of the body and the evidence. I don't think this is, strictly speaking, your jurisdiction, but I understand you may be required to continue an investigation until our respective bodies come up with some agreement." Olivia nodded. "I will tell my people to start working on this as soon as I'm back in the Ministry." 

"Sure. I'll let my bosses know. Potter?"

He paused again.

"Why would anyone kill him, if he's wizard police? I mean, I don't know how it's with you guys, but with us, the bastards know. You need to be either completely desperate or completely thick to touch a cop. Even an ex-cop."

"I don't know," he admitted. "But trust me, I'm going to find out."

Potter and Lupin didn't walk out through the door. She saw them turning on the spot, right there in the living room - and then they were gone. 

Wizards! Now how is she going to explain this to her boss, was beyond her.

**-X-**

Ed and Richard were sitting in their regular pub near the office. Usually, the star reporters would sit in front of the basin, letting go of the day's work. Not today. Today they - and the rest of the pub's customers, the majority of whom were their colleagues - were all watching the television intently, which was broadcasting the press conference directly from Parliament. The special elections to the constituencies of Hogsmeade South and Hogsmeade North had been set for another four weeks, and the last of the Wizards, the woman in charge of - what was it? - Magical Law Enforcement, walked out. The press conference was over.

"Looks like we're going to need to learn a lot of new terminology," Richard observed. 

"Looks like we're going to need to find a way to get to Hogsmeade, wherever the hell that is," Ed responded. 

"You think they're saying the truth?" Richard asked.

"How d'you mean?"

"The thing is," said Richard, "there's no way of telling if any of this is true. These jobs, these people... they could be making it all up and we'd be none the wiser."

"You're paranoid," Ed rolled his eyes and went back to sipping his beer. "You sound like one of those bloggers who are always looking for a government conspiracy everywhere."

"I'm just saying. There's no way of knowing."

"Actually," a new voice cut in, "he's not completely wrong." The woman who was sitting behind them turned around and looked at them with a smug smile behind her pink glasses. 

"And you are?"

"Rita Skeeter. Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet."

"You're a witch?"

Instead of answering, she flicked the wand in her hand. Richard's beer mug turned into a mouse. He shouted and let go of the rodent, which squeaked and scurried away under the chairs. "Okay," he said thoughtfully. "You're a witch."

"I," she said smugly, "am a journalist."

She had a distinct air around her, one both Ed and Richard knew all too well - one that was shared by quite a number of their colleagues, if they could be called that, in the tabloid offices down in Kensington. Specifically, the ones who were in charge of some of the web-only content. Like the paparazzi photographs with sarcastic comments content. They looked at each other for a second, then turned back to her. A source, after all, is a source. "Nice to meet you, Ms Skeeter," Richard said. "My name's Richard, my friend here is Ed. Now... What did you mean? How am I not wrong?"

"Everything the Minister said in the press conference is true," she said. "These are the department heads, this is what they do. He was completely honest." Her smile widened. She reminded Ed of a shark. "You see, the thing is, he doesn't have to lie."

"Why not?"

"Because you lot don't know enough to know when he's just not telling you something."

"Like what?"

"Well. You see. There is an office, officially under the jurisdiction of Magical Law Enforcement. He only showed the department heads - " 

" - So he only had to introduce the entire big department, without going into uncomfortable details," Ed completed her sentence. "But that other office, officially under Magical Law Enforcement - and unofficially?"

"Auror office. Completely independent. Its head reports directly to the Minister. Huge budget, huge number of employees. All of them professionals, undergo the longest, most rigorous training in the entire wizarding world. It's easier to be a Healer than it is to be an Auror."

"Training? to do what?"

"They're the ones who catch dark wizards."

The two reporters paused. "Dark wizards?"

"You didn't think all wizards played by the rules, now, did you? You have your criminals, we have ours."

"Except your criminals have magic at their disposal."

"Quite."

Richard looked wistfully at his hand which, once upon a time, held a half-pint of bitter in it. "I imagine," he said slowly, "that the Minister did not want to start a discussion about dark wizards with the entire British public, not at this time. And so," he now looked at Skeeter, "he simply... omitted the office. And if anyone asks, he wasn't hiding anything, it's just not an independent department. Is that it?"

"Oh, I imagine that's a big part of it, yes."

Richard and Ed looked at each other again. They did not like the way she was leading them towards a certain direction, a certain conclusion, which was obvious a mile away. And yet, if they didn't follow her, they would not be able to judge for themselves. A source, Ed had to remind himself, was a source. 

"And the rest of it?"

"The Head Auror. Harry Potter, have you ever heard of him? No? Quite the colourful man. Some say he's the Minister's right-hand man, the main reason Shacklebolt has been able to hold on to power for so long."

"And others?" 

"That he belongs in St Mungo's hospital, and that allowing him to lead the most sensitive office in the Ministry is sheer recklessness, if not outright stupidity."

Whoever this Potter was, Ed liked him already. Especially if this Mail Online-esque _journalist_ was trying to lead them towards the other conclusion.

"Here, this is for you," she pulled out a book. He looked at the cover. _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_. "Potter shows up beginning chapter 35. Book's on me," she flashed them a smile. Definitely reminiscent of a shark. But he said thanks and took the book with him home, where he sat all night and read about wizards.


	3. The Honourable Member for Hogsmeade North

Hermione was just leaving the Minister's office when Harry arrived. "Think about it," Kingsley was telling her. 

"I will, I promise I will," she responded with a slightly worried voice that Harry knew so well. 

The Minister, however, did not appear to have noticed. Instead, he turned to Harry. "Oh, Harry, great, come in." 

Once inside Kingsley's office, the Minister shut the door, whispered an incantation, making sure they were not overheard, and sat down in front of Harry. "I heard about the massacre in the Orkney Islands. That's where your contacts were hiding, wasn't it."

"Yeah." 

Strictly speaking, an Auror - and especially the head of the Auror office - was not supposed to be dealing with issues pertaining to goblins. Harry's job was dark wizards - not other magical beings who were engaged in a bloody civil war. However, it has long since become obvious to the Ministry of Magic that the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was _not_ the right office to deal with the goblins. And Harry was the one who negotiated with the goblins for years, eventually succeeding in getting them to sign a magically binding peace treaty some eight months ago. 

For a moment, the future seemed so bright. For the first time in 20 years, the goblins had signed a treaty, one which they could not get out of, despite the different factions within goblin society. After all, the goblin faction which opposed peace had no choice once the treaty was signed - their own brand of magic prevented them from breaking it, even if they disagreed with it. Sooner rather than later, they would accept the inevitable, and goblins and wizards could start learning to live side-by-side. Or so Harry believed, for one bright, optimistic moment.

"When are we going to intervene?" He asked Kingsley, not for the first time.

"We're not going to intervene," Kingsley responded, as he always did.

"More goblins have died in the past eight months than goblins and wizards combined in the previous twenty years," he pleaded, as he always did. "There will be no one left by the time this civil war ends. They are begging us to help them."

"Getting involved in the goblin civil war will annul the treaty. We can't do that." Kingsley was looking out of the window, at his desk - anything but meet Harry's gaze. He already knew what his Head Auror was going to say. They had had that same conversation a thousand times before.

"To hell with the treaty! Kingsley - "

"No," for a change, Kingsley cut Harry before he could finish. He was not in the mood. "You tried to get that treaty and end the fighting between our people for years. You finally succeeded. What happened afterwards is on them, not on us. Breaking the treaty will only drag us back into this ugly war, and we just got out of it. This is not happening. Discussion over."

"We wouldn't have been sitting on our arses and doing nothing if wizards were being hurt," Harry said quietly.

"Well, they're not. Se we are. Discussion over, Harry."

Harry nodded slowly. "Was this what you wanted to see me about, Minister?" Harry's voice was so much colder than usual, and he started getting up to leave. 

"No," Kingsley sighed again. "Please sit down."

Harry hesitated for a moment, then sat back. Despite their differences, despite the anger he felt, the powerlessness, his deep-felt respect for Kingsley did not allow him to do otherwise.

"I wanted to apologise."

Harry said nothing.

"For earlier this week. Leaving you out of the meeting regarding the Muggles, leaving you out of the Parliament meeting and press conference."

"Kingsley, honestly, I don't mind. You were doing me a favour, really. And like you said, I'm not a Department Head."

"Nonsense. The Auror Office may as well be its own department." Kingsley paused, then started again. "Your impassionate - and non-stop - arguments in favour of breaking the peace treaty may have made you a political pariah in some parts of the Ministry, but you have been my right-hand man from the day I took office. Keeping Smith and Zabini at bay by shutting you out is not the right policy for this Ministry, however easier it makes it for me, politically."

"Well, that's politics, isn't it?" Harry was not fully willing to give in and be _understanding_ to Kingsley's plight, not after he shut down the earlier discussion so thoroughly, but he was not able to ignore it completely. "That's why I'm never taking your job."

"Yes, well. I don't think I will be holding it for much longer, either."

"What? Sir?"

"I felt you deserved to hear it from me personally. The Muggles are using the Act of Parliament to force an election. They are creating two new constituencies: Hogsmeade South and Hogsmeade North. The MP for Hogsmeade South will be the Minister for Magic."

"You're not going to stand?"

"I'm not the right person anymore, I think. The new Minister will have to deal a lot more with Muggles, a lot more intensively than anyone who has ever taken this role. I think it should be someone with more experience with Muggles than I have. To be honest, Harry, I think it's about time we've had a Muggle-born Minister."

It was hard to interpret Kingsley's look, but Harry felt he knew where this was going. "Hermione?" he hazarded.

"I asked her to run for office. She said she would consider it."

"She would be brilliant, Kinglsey, I know she would be. But - this can't be the whole thing?" The previous hostility forgotten, Harry now returned to his regular role as Kingsley's closest confidant. He could never hold a grudge for long. "What's going on?"

"I'm tired, Harry. I'm tired of having to choose doing the right political thing over the right thing. And it looks like it's only going to get worse. Hermione has managed to get the Muggles to compromise - they're going to have a voter registration, similar to the regular Muggle voters, as I understand. Hermione says that wizards who choose not to vote will not be on the registrar, and so, at this point, people can make their own minds whether to reveal their identity to the Muggles or not."

"At this point," Harry repeated. 

"They're not going to give up so easily. Whoever will be the Minister will have a lot of trouble on their hands. And Hermione or not - that's not going to be me."

"You think it's going to get worse."

"I know it will."

They sat there quietly for a few more moments, and then Harry got up to leave.

"Harry?" the Minister stopped him right before he walked out. "How is the investigation progressing?"

He didn't need to say which investigation. This week, there was only one investigation anyone was talking about - and only one Harry was heading personally. 

"It's... progressing," Harry answered. 

Truth be told, it was going nowhere. 

Harry had proceeded from the Finnigans' house immediately to Parvati's office at the Ministry, to let her know - and prevent her from going back, at least until they cleared the place. She was now staying with her sister, Padma. He promised her he would keep her updated on everything. He promised her he would find the murderer - as he did Padma, and Kingsley, and the entire Auror Office. Three days later, and he didn't have the tiniest clue. 

Seamus' wand was still missing. And more than that - he had been back to the house four or five times, and still was unable to find any trace of the magic that was used to murder the ex-Auror. Something about this - something about all of this - just wasn't right. Seamus had been an Auror for over a decade. He may not have suffered from insomnia, to the best of Harry's knowledge, but Aurors slept light, and Harry knew this was also the case with Seamus, having woken him up multiple times in his time as an Auror. And a wizard's wand was like another body part. The idea that someone could just walk into the house and pick up Seamus' wand, while Seamus would continue sleeping… that was simply unthinkable. 

But without a wand to examine or witnesses to question, Harry's options were limited. And that frustrated him all the more. It didn't matter Seamus had quit the Auror office; it didn't matter that he left on pretty bad terms, or the words that he shouted at Harry before he left, or that he practically refused to even speak to Harry, even after the end of the Goblin War. None of that mattered. He was one of Harry's men, and Harry owed it to him and to his family to find his murderer. 

"It's progressing," he repeated. 

"I know you'd be able to crack it," Kinglsey answered. Harry knew he was sincere, and the unspoken acknowledgement of the impossibility of the task was strangely reassuring. 

"I hope so," he said quietly.

**-X-**

If the police bought itself a day or two of peace before the real meaning of the murder of Seamus Finnigan blew up in the press, it was thanks to the sheer workload reporters found themselves dealing with these days. Ideally, the papers would have been able to assign a Wizarding World reporter as soon as the new reality sunk in. But with a dwindling number of in-house reporters and the larger and larger reliance on freelancers, interns, and internet bloggers, this was simply not to be. Simply put, while the idea of inter-agency cooperation with the wizard police was interesting to everyone, as well as the question of violent magical crime, it was still within the realm of those reporters who focused on crime and society. And so, the initial press announcement that a murder was being co-investigated by regular and wizard police was published in Ed's paper on Tuesday on page 5, at the bottom. It did quite well, considering. One of the tabloids left it as far back as page 17 - its editor judged that as far as wizards were concerned, his readers were more interested in their opinion about Harry & Meghan and magical ways to self quarantine, than they were interested in wizard police.

It wasn't, however, until Thursday, that Ed, who was a star political reporter and did not deal normally with crime (except for the type that was committed within Westminster Hall), noticed that announcement and put two and two together - the wizarding agency and its head who were, intentionally or not, hidden from the public during the initial press conference, were also the ones in charge of investigating a gruesome murder. And that meant that someone within the Met police met someone who knew something that was just as important for government as it was for criminal investigations. 

He spent the morning making phone calls, trying to call in favours from the time he was on the police beat, but five years were a long time and he was not the only one who changed jobs. Around noon, he decided he was going about it the wrong way. Even if he could find the detective who was there that night, it was only going to end in some polite dodging. No, better tackle it from a different direction. He picked up the phone and called the Superintendent. Within half an hour, they had scheduled a meeting with the detective - and the Met's PR person - for 5 o'clock.

The detective was nice, pleasant - and unhelpful. "The investigation is ongoing"; "You will have to talk to someone higher up about the logistics of cooperation with the wizards"; "I really don't know"; "I'm sure you know that there are always details we avoid releasing to the public in ongoing investigations"; and so on, and so forth. After fifteen minutes and a complete failure to gain from the detective more concrete information about wizarding police, Ed gave up. 

"Oh," he asked just after asking for the bill, having admitted defeat, "do you know the names of the wizard detectives in charge of the case?"

"I don't know who's in charge. The two yesterday were called Harry Potter and Teddy Lupin."

Oh. "The Commissioner?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Harry Potter. He's the wizard police commissioner, from what I understand."

DI Chapman shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't share his rank."

"Isn't that unusual, though?"

"I imagine having a wizard cop murdered is unusual," she responded without missing a beat. "If I were murdered, I bloody well hope the person in charge of the case is at least a Super."

Ed laughed. "Fair enough," he said. "But was he... unusual?"

DI Chapman didn't even blink. "He was a wizard, that's unusual."

"Come on, now. You're already protecting him! He's not even one of your own!"

"I'm not protecting him. I met him for about 10 minutes, near a dead body. It wasn't the time to change pleasantries and ask about how the wizards celebrate Christmas, you know."

"Okay, alright," he conceded. "But if you meet him again, let me know?"

"No, I won't," she smiled and got up. "Have a nice day."

"Yeah, you too," he mumbled. But he only had time to consider his failure for a second or two - his phone beeped with a text message. He took a look and jumped to his feet. Never a dull moment, in this brave new world. Now the Minister for Magic was announcing he would not stand for elections, effectively stepping down.

Ed dearly missed the days before the words "Minister for Magic" were a part of his vocabulary. It was only a couple of weeks ago, but it already felt like eternity. Shaking his head, he got up to look for someone who could explain what was coming next.

**-X-**

It was Friday evening before Harry got to speak to Hermione. They had seen each other in the halls of the Ministry of Magic, of course - she was, strictly speaking, his boss, and there were departmental meetings and briefings and lots of papers going back and forth - all of which were some of Harry's least favourite things. Twenty years at the Ministry, fifteen of which as the head of the Auror Office, and he still struggled to find within himself the patience for the quotidian bureaucracy of governance; still, he was getting better at _hiding_ it, which was also something, or so he told himself. No, the Ministry was not a good place to have personal conversations with one of his best friends.

Instead, they found themselves having dinner at Molly and Arthur Weasley's house to celebrate the weekend. And happily enough, it was Hermione who brought the news up herself.

"I'm so tired," she said as she sat down on Molly and Arthur's sofa. "I should have stayed at Hogwarts - teaching Transfiguration to cheeky and petulant teenagers is nothing compared to dealing with cheeky and petulant politicians. And _they're_ reasonable adults compared to the Muggle politicians!"

"So you're going back to Hogwarts?" Arthur asked, and Hermione paused before responding.

"Actually... Oh, alright! I'm thinking of running for Minister." She reddened slightly, as if there was something embarrassing in her admission.

"Minister!" Percy raised his eyes from the Daily Prophet.

"Wouldn't that involve dealing _more_ with Muggle Politicians?" George asked.

"Well, yes. But I think we can change our relationship with the Muggles. And, well... when I talked about this with Kingsley, he said he wasn't the right person for the job. And that, seeing as I'm Muggle-born..."

"You'd do great, sweetheart," Molly immediately said, and Hermione looked at her with gratitude.

"You really think so? I've been fretting over this ever since Kingsley asked me, is this the right thing to do, how much time would be wasted in Parliament... "

"She's been driving me absolutely bonkers," Ron confirmed. "But you'll be marvelous," he added.

Harry waited until after desert, when everyone was full of Molly's cooking and half asleep, to speak his mind. "Are you sure that's what you want to do?" He asked.

"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry I haven't talked to you about this earlier. And everything this week..."

"It's okay. I heard from Kingsley - and if you need to win elections, well - "

"Oh, come _on_. I don't think anyone is going to be convinced that you and I are not very close - and I wouldn't have pretended otherwise. You know that."

Harry appreciated her words. Hermione was not only one of his closest friends - she was also one of the people who had to repeatedly deal with the consequences of Harry's actions. She was affected by the swings in the public's perceptions of Harry nearly as much as he was, and he knew that it did not make her life easier. He couldn't help but smile when he heard her words. And she, of course, noticed his smile.

"Harry, what we've been through... I wouldn't give up on you. Not for anything in the world."

"Thanks," he could only mumble, overcome with gratitude. She smiled in return. She didn't need to say anything else.

By the time Harry and Ginny took the floo to Godric’s Hollow, it was nearly midnight. Harry was already going up the staircase, prepared to go to bed, when he heard Ginny calling from the kitchen. “Want a cuppa?” she asked, and Harry froze. This hour, it must be something serious.

“Sure,” he called, sighed, and stepped down. No rest for the wicked… 

Thirty seconds later, he walked into the kitchen, where his tea was already waiting. “Better drink it before it gets cold,” Ginny said with a smile. He sat down in front of her and sipped the tea, saying nothing. Ginny, for her part, was playing with the sugar bowl. 

“It will be quite the change, Hermione in charge of the Ministry.”

“She’d be brilliant,” he said. “I’m not worried.”

“Neither am I. Just saying – it would be quite the change.”

He nodded. “Well, with everything that’s going on with the Muggle world right now, a change is coming either way. That’s why Kingsley is stepping down.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ginny was playing with the sugar bowl again. Harry waited. Ginny’s silence, about 30 seconds, seemed like half an hour. “She would need someone at her side, dealing with all of it.”

“I… don’t think there should be a problem with the department heads,” Harry said carefully. “They all know and respect her.”

“I meant, in Parliament. There’s a second constituency, remember? Hogsmeade North.” Ginny raised her head. “I was thinking, it’d be an interesting change. From Hogwarts. And I’ve done Ministry work, too. It’d be a challenge, for sure,” she was rambling at this point, which was fine with Harry, as he was trying to collect his thoughts. “But I feel like I’m up for the challenge.” She paused for a moment. “What do you think?”

“I think… I think you would be great. And Hermione would be absolutely grateful to have you by her side.”

“Harry.”

“I mean it,” he finally looked at her. “I really do. It’s just… I’m surprised, that’s all. You weren’t a big fan of your time in the Ministry. I didn’t think you would be interested in something like that.”

“Things changed,” she said, and he nodded. “Times change.”

**-X-**

The news that Kinglsey would step down were seen as a relief by many, and a source of anxiety by many more. His endorsement of Hermione’s candidacy was expected - a senior department head at a relevant office, proven experience with tackling complicated situations. And most of all, as many people pointed out, continuity. And while Harry expected some comments about Hermione’s parents, he was still surprised at the sheet numbers of people who started talking about the good old days. And it wasn’t just those old Slytherin families. The murmurs and questions and extrapolations of whether a Muggle-born Minister was the right thing to do right now and of the need to respect the Wizarding World's norms and traditions was coming from far and wide in wizarding society. And so, while Blaise Zabini's announcement that he, too, was running for Minister, was met with a lot of scepticism, he also received a shocking amount of support.

“Blaise Zabini can barely keep track of what’s going on in his own damn department!” Harry complained loudly to Ginny at the dinner table. “Cooperation with South American and Eastern European wizards has gone to nearly zero, exactly at the time we need them the most!” Ginny said nothing – that evening, Zabini announced that, if he were elected Minister, he would overhaul the responsibilities and personnel of various Ministry departments – beginning, of course, with the Auror Office. Harry Potter had officially become an election issue, as much as no one was saying so openly. A vote for Hermione would be a vote to keep the same old regime in place, which was getting corrupt with power and refusing to hear opposing opinions, for the detriment of the entire Wizarding Society – or so the conversation went. And then Astoria Malfoy announced she was running for Hogsmeade North. And a Malfoy running for the Muggle Parliament was not just the beginning of a bad joke – it was a sign that they genuinely believed that they could win. 

Ginny insisted on staying calm and reminded everyone at every opportunity that the wizarding world remembered quite well what it was like when people like the Malfoys were in power and how they were not going to repeat that same mistake again. But as polling day approached, even Ginny’s cheerful insistence on trusting the wizarding world was starting to crumble. Zabini was talking to the Daily Prophet more and more about the “rotten, corrupt norms” at the Ministry, and mentioning the relative stability in personnel under Kingsley as a sign of stagnation and unwillingness to hear different opinions. That he was ignoring his own position in the Ministry did not escape Ginny, but neither the fact that more and more people she knew were starting, if not to repeat the same ideas, then at the very least ask questions about the stability of the Ministry. And if they weren't quite buying it from Zabini, Astoria Greengrass was a different matter altogether. 

Astoria did not directly attack Ginny, nor did she sayy a word about Harry or Muggleborns in any way. Harry said darkly that she must have realised how that would look like, but Ginny was not so sure. Astoria was, first and foremost, pleasant. She did not shy of talking about the past. She talked of the need for reconciliation, of moving forward in a positive, constructive manner, of making sure all parts of wizarding society had an equal hand in decision-making and policy implementation. It was two weeks before the election, in Hermione’s office, that she said openly what Harry had been thinking in private. “They’re making it sound like we’re the ones who divided the wizarding society and they were the victims,” she uttered darkly, frustrated. “They’re making it sound like we’re the problem!”

And Harry remained silent. He had fought with quite a lot of people, not the least his own self, to try and give Slytherins a real chance at redemption over the years. To make sure people stopped looking at one another in those ways. Not to judge a person by their name or House. To stop asking people ‘whose side were you on during that war?’. And now, here they were. Using those exact sentiments, those exact words against Hermione and Ginny. And using him, as well. 

“I think,” Astoria said in her front-page interview with Rita Skeeter, “that a change in the Auror Office is necessary. This is not to suggest that Mr Potter has not been adequate at his work – quite the contrary. But I think we’ve all seen in recent years that Mr Potter is not quite able to let go of the past, whether in his dealings with dark wizards or with other populations. And I think it’s time that the Auror Office looks to the future, to the new challenges ahead, instead of going back again and again to those old challenges.”

Ginny threw her copy of the Daily Prophet to the fire that evening, but even the Potters’ magical fire could not handle what came the next day.

Harry was in Muggle London – attending yet another meeting on cooperation protocols at Scotland Yard. What should have been an easy division of labour became an endless chain of meetings about how do Muggles know when a victim was a wizard, what happens if a perpetrator turns out to be a wizard halfway through an investigation, and, a point Harry was starting to take as a personal insult, how do the Muggles know that when they are told a crime is within the Ministry’s jurisdiction, the Ministry is telling the truth.

“But we have no interest in investigating Muggle crimes!” he said in frustration, which only opened yet another set of questions, the ones about when and how could the police ask for wizarding help. “After all,” the Commissioner said, “law enforcement agencies tend to help each other.”

The question of magical help was becoming more and more of an issue in the general Muggle public. It started, naturally, not from crime but from medicine, where a number of very respected Healers had to explain that wizard medicine worked on magical maladies and unfortunately they did not have the tools to stop viruses of any kind. The general Muggle disgruntlement with the answer was soon transferred to additional areas, such as counter-terrorism and crime. 

“We can’t just – “

“Flip a wand and find out who the killer is, yes, you’ve said,” the Commissioner cut Harry. “That magic of yours doesn’t seem all that useful, now, does it?” 

“Let’s take a break, I could use a coffee,” Harry muttered and left the meeting room. And there, in the kitchen, everyone was staring at – him. On TV.

“ – Potter was filmed going in and out of Scotland Yard in recent days, and the police are insisting this is simple protocol building between law-enforcement agencies. As the Daily Mail published this morning, Potter is the head of a highly secretive office which was not revealed to the general public. Sources within the Ministry of Magic, however, suggest that not all is well with Potter, and describe him as a mentally unstable man who prefers the use of brute force over diplomacy. The Daily Mail published today excerpts from a book by the witch Journalist Rita Skeeter, suggesting Potter was manipulated from childhood by people within the wizarding society, apparently with the intention of creating some sort of ‘super soldier’. He is currently married to Ginny Potter, who is running for MP of Hogsmeade North in upcoming special by-election. More on this topic in just a few minutes, but first, the weather.” 

Harry thought he was used to the shocked stares that accompanied every single Rita Skeeter article about him during his teenage years. He also thought that now, aged 40, he would be able to laugh it off, rather than take it to heart as he did at fifteen. But the truth turned out to be that he just honestly believed that he was never going to find himself in that situation, ever again. And now, when he realised he was wrong, when the police officers around him put two and two together and just _stared_ \- he wanted nothing but to get out of there, as quickly as possible. 

“Potter,” he heared a familiar voice, and raised his head to see DI Chapman. “Can you drop by my office for a moment?”

“Sure,” he mumbled and made his way out of the kitchen. He followed Chapman for a few minutes in silence, until they reached an empty office. 

“What is this about?” he finally asked, and was surprised to see her grinning.

“You had the air of a man desperately looking for a way out. Thought I’d give you an easy exit.”

“Thanks.” 

She looked at him in silence for a moment, as if considering whether to ask how much of the Rita Skeeter-inspired news was true. In the end, she opted a different topic. “How’s the Finnigan investigation going?”

“Badly.”

“I thought you’d just have to wave your wand and apprehend the murderers.”

“That would have been nice, wouldn’t it,” he said wistfully and sipped from his coffee. Great – he forgot to add sugar. Absent-mindedly, he flicked his wand to Summon a sugar bowl from the kitchen. The sugar appeared shortly, and he added a teaspoon. 

“Nice party trick,” DI Chapman observed. Damn. “So you can do that but can’t solve crimes.”

He ignored the jab. “Whoever killed Seamus knew what they were doing. But you’re right. We just can’t figure it out. It shouldn’t have happened. That entire situation is completely impossible. There was no way that they could get to his wand before waking him up. None. And yet – they did.”

“Do you always have magic? Like, the magic doesn’t disappear at midnight or something?” she mused.

“We’re not Cinderella,” he laughed. “No, a wizard – or a witch – never loses their magic. On the contrary – if we’re caught unaware we may actually react with more magic. A lot of what they teach in Hogwarts is how to prevent these things from happening, how to stay in control the whole time.”

“And there’s no magic to take someone’s magic away?”

“None.”

“None that you’re aware of,” she pointed out, but he shook his head. “None,” he repeated. He wasn’t going to start going into the whole sad history of wizard politics with a Muggle, but… “Believe you me,” he said eventually. “If there was, wizards would have used it a long time ago.”

“And I guess there’s no wizard university where wizards sit down and make up new magic,” she said.

To this, he didn’t respond.

**-X-**

The thing about this absurd situation they found themselves in, Hermione pointed out in frustration, was that on the surface, no one was campaigning. Not overtly, not the way it happened in Muggle society. Wizarding society was still too damn in love with its concept of _aristrocracy_ , she said angrily, and Harry knew that what she meant was _pure-blood_. But it was true. Anyone who openly campaigned would be looked down upon - which worked just fine for Astoria Malfoy _née_ Greengrass, pure-blood as far as both families' trees could be traced, even if they no longer had the same amount of money as they used to; even if Malfoy Manor was no longer their home. It still worked in her favour. Oh, everyone respected Hermione, and absolutely adored Ginny! Even Hermione admitted that, and then added darkly that this was, essentially, why they were still in the race. Why Zabini and Malfoy had not yet won.

"But it shouldn't even be this close!" She added.

What could Harry say? She was right, of course. It shouldn't be this close. There shouldn't even be a race. Not if he were to believe everything that he had heard from everyone for years and years. And yet... And yet. And yet it was. And maybe not everyone was as much on board with the changes that he and Kingsley implemented after the war as they claimed to be. 

Of course, Hermione's contributions to Wizarding society were mentioned in every discussion, her talent as a witch and her role in the war. No one dared suggest that she would be more loyal to Muggles than to Wizarding society without first going through the list of her achievements. "I mean, if it's just about skills," said a witch on the radio, "she's probably the most qualified person to have ever been nominated for the role of Minister, I mean, think of previous ministers! Fudge, Jenkins... even old Minchum was a bit of an incompetent disaster, wasn't he? Can you imagine how better off we'd have been if it were Granger in their place?"

That seemed to be the consensus amongst the wizards. Hermione would have done so much better dealing with the Ministry's previous challenges than any other Minister in history. They would trust her with their lives against Voldemort and Death Eaters. And at the same time, there seemed to be an unspoken statement, a _but_ that no one wanted to bring up. _But we still managed. But competence and talent aren't everything. But Death Eaters aren't really a problem anymore. But what about tradition. But can we trust her with Muggles. But._

It was pure luck - or, perhaps, pure arrogance - that it was Zabini who was challenging her. He was not an obvious candidate for Minister, not to anyone who cared about more than purity of blood. Astoria Malfoy, on the other hand, was a different story altogether. She was always nice to everyone, always helpful, and always paying visits to her family's friends and acquaintances. And the thing was, as one of the oldest families within the wizarding world, the Greengrass family had ties with nearly all of the famous and most influential wizarding families, all the families who had always filled the seats at the Ministry of Magic. And of course, Astoria wasn't campaigning - she was just saying hello, catching up with people, giving them an in-person version of her Daily Prophet interview, talking about how things are and how things could be... maybe after twenty years, it's time for a change? And it wasn't just old Slytherin families. George saw her walking down Diagon Alley with Isobel MacDougal one day. The next day, as Teddy came back from updating Parvati about the on-going investigation, he mentioned off-hand that Astoria came to visit. Three days after that, Harry himself saw her, having a picnic with Rufus Fudge and his wife Amelia. She was _everywhere_. 

And she was making people listen. Harry didn't realise how much, until Alicia Spinnet dropped by his office to get some files she needed.

"Hi Harry, I need to finish up the investigation on that sorry business with the hippogriff last month, I just need a copy of your report."

Right. The hippogriff. Harry had promised Alicia he would drop it by her office three weeks ago. But he had forgotten all about it, what with Seamus' murder and all. "I'm sorry," he apologised. "I finished it, it's here somewhere, I meant to drop it by your office but - "

"I know," she stopped his apology with a smile. "It's been crazy down here, I reckon. Are you guys any closer to figuring out who did it?"

"No," Harry admitted in frustration as he was rummaging through his desk. Hippogriff, hippogriff... "It just doesn't make any sense, you know. None of it. It's the weirdest crime scene I have ever seen."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Alicia said sympathetically. "You always do. Everyone knows it - even the Malfoys know you can do it."

"The Malfoys?"

"Yeah, Astoria dropped by the office earlier, she dropped some cake by for Ernie from his grandmother."

"Astoria Malfoy?" Harry stopped rummaging through his desk.

"Yeah, she's Ernie's cousin, Harry, don't turn this into something it isn't."

"But she was talking about the elections. And about me."

"Oh, come off it, Harry, like I said, she herself said she trusted you with this."

"Well," he said darkly, "if I have _Astoria Malfoy's_ trust..." Alicia rolled her eyes, but said nothing. 

"What else did she say?" he asked.

"She was just talking in general, you know. About the ministry."

"What about the ministry?"

"Just how... well, we've all worked here for a very long time. She's right about that, we all have our ways, we all have our habits, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. But maybe she's right. Maybe we could use some fresh perspectives around here. "

Harry found the report and looked at it for a moment, before looking back at Alicia. She looked uncomfortable, almost embarrassed. But she continued talking. "Look, Harry, we can talk about reconciliation all we want, but she has a point. She applied three times for a job at the Ministry - and she _is_ a very capable woman. And it's not like she applied to be an Auror. But she got turned away all three times, because the department heads didn't want to work with her. Let's not pretend that carrying the surname Malfoy had nothing to do with that. And maybe we are losing some important perspectives by automatically turning people like her away. And I mean..." she started, then hesitated, as if she had thought better of what she wanted to say.

"What?" Harry insisted.

"It's not like she's running against Hermione. That would have been a different story. It's no choice between Hermione and Astoria for Minister, no one's arguing she has those skills or experience, not remotely like Hermione does."

"No, she's running against Ginny."

Alicia sighed. "Harry, Ginny is a friend, not just because she's your wife, and I absolutely adore her, and she's clever and talented... and she's also a person who needs to be doing things, much like you, and much like you, diplomacy isn't her best quality. Don't tell me that you weren't surprised when she decided to run."

He was, but he wasn't going to admit it, not right now, not in this conversation. So he said nothing.

"I just don't know if she's the best person to represent us with the Muggles."

"And Astoria Malfoy is."

"I don't _know_ , Harry," Alicia said, slightly angrily. "But is this the Ministry you want? Where I vote for Ginny because I like her better, or where I don't vote for Astoria because she's married to Malfoy?"

No, I want you not to vote for Astoria Malfoy because she's twisting everything! But when he handed Alicia the report, he just said, with as much calm as he could muster, "I want you to vote for whoever you think is the best for the job. I just hope you make sure that you know who you think is best for the job, not based on what they tell you."

She laughed. "Looks like you finally learned diplomacy, Harry." He didn't laugh. 

"Don't be mad," she continued. "We all want what's best for our society. These are new times, no one has all the answers. I'm just asking questions, even if I don't like the way they sound. Anyway," she took the report from his hand, "gotta go, gotta finish that report."

"See you," he said quietly as she left the room. 

But in the next few days, he had to admit her words made sense. Even if he disagreed - about Astoria's capabilities, about Ginny's shortcomings, or about the reasons some people would vote for one and not the other. But the words - the message - was one that made people think. This was what Astoria Malfoy was saying to people, this was how she was campaining, while Ginny, who was known and beloved by all as a former Quidditch player, had perhaps less of what Alicia called diplomacy, that trait that would have allowed her to use that fame and love to get people to see her point of view. And so, perhaps, it was time to stop relying on old Wizarding logic, and make the Wizarding World learn a thing or two from Muggle campaigns. Or at least, that was Hermione's argument in favour of the offer that came from the BBC - a by-elections debate. After all, what was more appropriate for an election than a debate? Wouldn't it serve an important function, not just to allow wizards and witches to hear the different candidates on a variety of topics, but also for the Muggles to get to know the wizards or witches who would soon sit in Parliament?

Ginny was sceptical; Kingsley was aghast. And it was anyone's guess what was going on at the Malfoy household. But once Hermione said yes, none of the others could say no. And so they found themselves, one rainy evening, inside a television studio in London, where a representative of the Muggle Liaison office was setting up to broadcast the debate to the fireplaces of wizards and witches around the country, and a cameraman was setting up to broadcast it to television sets around the world.

"So, this is how this is going to go - I don't imagine any of you are familiar with televised debates? No? Right then," the very energetic moderator, who made sure to mention, every few minutes, some of the journalism awards he had won in the past. "Anyway, I would ask you questions, each one of you will get one minute to answer - no interrupting each other! - and once everyone had their say, we will open the floor for comments. Usually we would also have a live audience that could ask a few questions, but worry not, we've collected quite a few questions from members of the public. Now, I don't know how it is usually done for wizards, but I would suggest remaining polite, it does not reflect well on you if you get angry. Either way, better get going, take your places, we're starting in three minutes."

Good luck, the four candidates wished each other - keeping it civil, as the moderator suggested. And as everyone around them was running around with their last minute duties, Harry settled at the sides, watching.

In 5... 4... 3...

"In the previous years we've seen debates between party leaders, Prime Minister candidates, and more names than anyone can remember. But our debate today is a historic occasion, the first public debate, live on television - or perhaps, I should say live on _Muggle_ television - of the witches and wizards who wish to become an integral part of our government. For tonight's debate, we invited the four candidates who are running for two brand-new constituencies: for Hogsmeade South, Hermione Granger-Weasley and Blaise Zabini; and for Hogsmeade North, Astoria Malfoy and Ginny Potter. Our questions are going to focus on the big questions which surround this elections. The expected structure of the Ministry of Magic and its integration into the UK government, relations between wizards and non-wizards in the UK, and more. You can get involved in the debate on our website or through social media. We have also collected questions from members of the public, but first, a one minute opening statement from each of the candidates. Let's first turn to the candidates for Minister of Magic, beginning with Hermione Granger-Weasley."

And so it went on for the next hour and a half. _If elected, how would each one of you promote the relations between wizards and non-wizards?_ ranging from the very-detailed (Hermione) to the incredibly vague (Blaise Zabini). _How transparent will Ministry of Magic policy be for regular British citizens under your leadership?_ Surprisingly coherent response from Blaise, Harry had to admit, while Hermione waffled a bit. _How are you planning to address contradictions between Wizarding law and British law?_ Incredibly thoughtful answer from Astoria, which caught Harry off-guard. But worse yet, Ginny was beginning to lose her patience, and Harry couldn't help but remember Alicia's words. Astoria _was_ better at the diplomacy game than Ginny. Another aspect of the aristocracy of wizarding society, he thought, frustrated. 

But they couldn't take back that debate, or look for another one, or start to remind people that of course Astoria could speak better in front of crowds, or look more commanding and respected while doing so, because she had been trained to do so all her life! It was done. And now all that was left was to hope that the wizards and witches who chose to register to vote for the Hogsmeade North candidate could tell the difference.

Thursday arrived, rainy and foggy. Ginny was already up and out of bed by the time Harry woke up, and the house was full of the smells of brewing coffee. It was odd, sitting there like that, sipping their coffee slowly as if they had no worries in the entire world. As if it was just another normal day. 

"We've done everything we can do," Ginny said, responding to Harry's unspoken words. "Now there's nothing left to do, but wait."

"Well, wait - and do something else, too," he smiled. Once they finished breakfast, they Apparated together to Hogsmeade. Time to vote. 

The polling station was half abandoned. Was it the rain? The fog? The fact most people preferred registering to the other one, Hogsmeade South, in order to have a say on the Minister's identity? He didn't know. Neither did he know what that meant for Ginny's chances. Was it better for her, or for Astoria? The torturous questions continued as they voted, as they went back home, and as they went about their business. It wasn't long until Hermione and Ron joined them, and since no one could do any work that day, they just sat down and played Exploding Snap, as if they were back at Hogwarts, waiting for their exam results. 

But their game was interrupted long before they expected it to, long before the results came in. The fireplace turned green, and Teddy walked into the room. "Harry," he said, his voice choked. "There's been another murder."

**-X-**

It wasn't a friend of Harry's this time, it wasn't an underling. It wasn't anyone Harry knew. It wasn't even a wizard. It was an eight year old Muggle boy, living in London, with his Muggle parents and his dog, with his scooter and Playstation and his neighbourhood friends.

"We wouldn't have called you," DI Chapman said in quiet anger. "But when I looked at the scars... it looks just the same. But he's just a boy!"

Harry whispered the incantation. He didn't know what curse caused this, he didn't know any curse that could cause something like this, but it looked like the same thing that killed Seamus. And once again, he couldn't recognise any traces of magic. "You were right to call us," he said. 

"But they weren't wizards, were they? The father's a banker, the mother's a schoolteacher, he went to a regular school!" she demanded of him. "So your dark wizards then, what? They're going after regular eight year old boys now?"

Harry had no answers to give her. "We need to go back to the Ministry," he said to Teddy. "We need to check if we have any record of this boy, of this family. Why them? Why now?"

"I'm coming with you," DI Chapman said.

"What?" Teddy blurted. "You can't, you're a Muggle!"

"Well, tough. This kid is the same age as my son. I'm coming."

One look at her made it clear to Harry that this was not an argument they were going to win. "Maybe it's better this way," he said, a bit to Teddy, but mostly to himself. "In the spirit of cooperation, maybe it would help to have new eyes looking at what we have. We'll take the guest entrance," he added, having no intention of Apparating with a Muggle. 

"Good," she said, ignoring the fact she had no idea what the guest entrance was. "Let's go."

For just a moment, as they entered the Underground station, Harry caught on a TV the results of the special by-elections. Hermione Granger-Weasley, the new Minister for Magic, was giving an address, and next to her stood the Honourable Member for Hogsmeade North, Astoria Malfoy.


End file.
